


He’s In Love...

by Impalababycakes



Series: Destiel Mini Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Feels, Fluff, Godstiel - Freeform, Headcanon, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Predictions, fated, gif, gif fic, gif story, season 15 coda, the greatest love story ever told
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 13:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impalababycakes/pseuds/Impalababycakes
Summary: ...With Humanity."Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means that someone can get inside and mess you up." —Neil GaimanCoda would be Last Episode Of S15,They beat God himself and survived, but now someone has to take on the responsibility of heaven.Castiel once commanded an army of angels and that army voted him to take God's place. But before the angel leaves, there's still some unfinished business.





	He’s In Love...

**Author's Note:**

> Written while listening to: Hearing—Sleeping At Last.  
(Pictures/GIFS) were adjusted to fit mobil users screens not laptop, that’s why they’re so small.

They saved the world.

It's over. 

Yet, after all that, from the beginning to the end, it didn't feel like it was the end, or maybe it's that Dean didn't want it to be over... Because once it's over—everything changes.

Facing Chuck, they reunited, no longer separated, they put aside their differences to fight off the wrath that rain down upon the earth. They locked hands staring down the barrel of God's gun. Had they not, God would have won.

And Dean remembered thinking in their (what could have been final moments) that if this was the end, at least he stood fighting beside his brother and best friend.

If they'd died, would there be any regrets? Things left unsaid, memories they wish they could rewrite or forget? Dean had a few—hundred, at _least_.

A face or two he should have stabbed, he wished he could have been a better brother and son, a better friend, more patient and forgiving... A better lover to the ones who loved him.

Maybe that's why the Winchester takes a pause and cries, feeling tears warm the corner of his eyes, he tries to understand where he went wrong, putting the pieces together through ruptured emotions.

...They don't fit with his effort alone.

He keeps the water lodged between his sockets, luckily with his head tipped against his pillow, nothing can drip down, only sink into the back of his skull.

Dean sniffs out a breath, pulling on the collar of his henley, ripping a button out from the amount of force he uses, he had to see if he's still bleeding.

Dean is in distress. The man now clawing at his face, hair and chest with white knuckles, scared there's more than scars that litter his body.

When Dean looks down, the first thing he notices is that pesky chest hair that's somehow darker than all the other pieces. _Now_ it's time to take note of the absence of scars and open wounds.

Dean slips a hand up his shirt to feel his chest bare underneath polyester, his fingers move smoothly and dryly up his muscular abdomen.

He hums while his touch warms the surface, and as his fingers reach his collarbone, he spends some extra time tracing the curvature in the veins of his neck.

Dean could recall a bright light and an explosion that should have left his body in pieces, yet his limbs remained intact, and as he lay choking on his nerves, he accepts that his wounds had healed.

Not by a shaman or some hoodoo priest, not by a devil deal or by a miracle...

It's a familiar feeling Dean experiences bridging over him, but he can't carry the two so instead he wonders who carried him back to the bunker and went through the trouble of changing him out of his bloody shirt.

His mind flashes back to fingers curling into his skin, a pair of strong arms picked him up and cradled him like a child.

A long shadow taking hefty steps down the hallway, and a glimpse of the tawny brown trench coat and navy blue tie. He's sure he knows the stranger.

That's why he felt so secure in his arms, safe enough that he could fall asleep, eyes blinking out slow, like headlights, and a breath from the familiar stranger wisps Dean's hair.

But it's the leftover grace that resonates inside of him and the lingering smell of burning ash in the room that causes his back to sink into the mattress.

He remembers now.

Castiel carried him home.

For a moment, Dean smiles, but it soon fades into his face as he glances over at his coffee table, then his eyes wander upward. There's no fluttering shadow perched at his doorframe.

Maybe he was too late.

Castiel left before he could say goodbye...

...

He cradles his own head with his hands, no longer clawing and scratching, and quietly weeps.

And as he chokes on his own breath with eyes sewn shut, he lays there in his bed, lost in memories.

His mind filters through years like recapping a movie. A double feature of an angel and a hunter, enemies to friends...to...

That's the part of it all that remained unclear, like Dean was unable to make it to that chapter of the book to see what happens next, or maybe he just stopped reading into every little glance they gave a long time ago.

He recalls the good memories like being in a desert, finding a stream with water, overflowing into the gaps in his fingers, pooling over his cupped hands as he leans in for a drink.

And after days without water it's sweet tasting and clenching his thirst, he knows this is not where his journey ends, he can still go on.

And so he does...

Dean takes a deep breath and lets down his hands, his palms rub beside him, fists almost pummeling the sheets. He breathes again.

And again, until he's choking on it, But he can't help it, can't help his small voice caught in his throat, and the burning in his nose like his body wants to sneeze. He can't help what follows, the long string of remembrances that hold nothing but regrets and sorrow. He can't help that.

Closing his eyes was as close to sleep as he got these past few weeks, and though his body finally felt it could relax, he knew this wasn't over, thinking it was would be a mistake.

Now something that has been niggling on his awareness for some minutes became crystal clear. He's alone, he's alone so he can let his emotions show, no one is there to make fun of him, to criticize him.

So he allows himself to drown in his thoughts, he allows himself to feel everything at once so strongly it breaks him.

And with that, slowly very slowly, an old and forgotten memory rose from the depths of Dean's mind, so deep he had to dig his own grave just to find it, or like some buried treasure without a map.

And still he tries desperately to ignore it, tries oh-so-hard not to remember the scene now plastering itself on the backs of his eyelids.

He remembers hell, not the torturous and eternal suffering part of hell, not where he carved into skin and bone and liked it, no...

That bright light that shined through the hellfire and touched his shoulder, that _gripped_ his shoulder, crystal eyes staring into his soul, that was the first time they looked at each other.

And sure Castiel's true form looked like some extraterrestrial species, but it wasn't much different from a human, still capable of expression and what he expressed was mostly confusion but when the angel wrapped himself around him, Dean felt a heartbeat on his back. Anything with a heartbeat can feel, can love.

And the feeling Dean got was this everlasting bond that pulls at the strings of his heart every day he's existed since then, the leftovers of Castiel's grace still encircles his bones, still covers his whole heart.

He's not sure when he got feelings towards the angel, or if he ever needed to.

Dean changed when he was raised from the pit, maybe Castiel just helped assist in showing him everything's not always black and white, sometimes it's red and green and blue and violet.

Sometimes colors pour out of places where the light can't see them, and other times the rain washes them away, only to be replaced by a rainbow.

Not everything is a hopeless case, it doesn't have to be, Dean often feels that way, but all that remains when he hits the pillow is doubt and he lets that sing him to sleep.

...But he's tired of the song, he's tired of being stuck on a chapter to never see how the story ends.

...

Tears stream down his face and as he tries disparately to stop, he pinches the bridge of his nose and his eyes shoot open.

Hiccuping and sniffling like the man lost his best friend, because truthfully, despite everything, he did. This is his crushing reality, but it's not the one Dean is ready to accept.

So he shimmies off the mattress and kneels beside his bed, feeling so small and hopeless.

He leans his elbows into his knees, curling his fingers around nothing, but he wishes more than anything that it was Castiel. Holding onto Castiel, one last time.

Dean closed his eyes again, and though he was once a man of little faith, he might have lost faith in God, but Castiel was another story.

Since they're one in the same now, he figured he has a better chance of his last prayer being answered.

He's not sure if this should be a personal prayer or if he should make it sound like there's trouble, urgent vs petty... 

"So uh...looks like there's some things we gotta...fix, well you know how it is, no rest for the wicked. Sooo...We kinda need you here, if you don't mind _dear heavenly father_." Dean snorts, tears still at their edge. "Just do your thing and zap yourself down here, asap."

...

Dean stayed on his knees in complete silence, he even held his breath a few times to make sure he doesn't miss a sound. But there's nothing.

So... That leaves the other option...

Dean squeezes his hands in the fold, rubbing his tendons with his thumb, they're not just words anymore, they mean something, that's why it's hard for Dean to say it this time around...

"Castiel, you got your ears on?... It's me. I know you're probably already busy up there with... Your 'God' stuff, but... I need you here, _one last time_."

Dean opens his eyes and looks around the room, no angel, not even a breeze. So he tries again, third time's the charm, right?...

With eyes closed, he prays.

"Cast—..." Dean falters, his voice cracking, his brain begins to stall so much that he can't even conjure up a sentence now, so with that, he begs. "Please..."

This time, Dean stands and spins around on the heels of his boots, looking throughout his room, when he sees he's alone, he turns away from the door, wiping away his tears and sniffles once more before clearing his throat.

"Huh... G-Guess that's that. It's all texting and postcards from here..."

Dean closed his eyes, breathing in and holding it to the point it burns his chest, but soon releases when he hears the rustling of wings behind him.

There's no mistaking that sound unless a flock or wild doves found their way into the bunker...

And there, standing in the doorframe, was the angel.

"Hello Dean."

Castiel's voice is so warm that it dances like sunlight on the nape of Dean's neck, he's not far from it, judging by the clarity he's only a few feet away.

"Cas." Dean whispers, broken, barely a voice, not yet turning to face the angel.

"I heard your prayer." The angel smiles, bowing his head as he invites himself inside of Dean's room. "...It's fascinating, now I hear everyone's prayers... All at once." Castiel slides his palm up to the back of his ear.

"Sorry if I interrupted any of your heavenly business, I don't got the work schedule to really know when you're not sitting on your white seat and giving orders." Dean turns around, step by step. 

"I haven't gone back to heaven."

"Then... Where've you been?" This is new information to Dean, if it wasn't that important, like 'heaven' important, why didn't Castiel stay?...

"Pontiac, Illinois." Castiel answers, plain and with a little breath from his lungs, something was on his conscience.

"Got some hot date I don't know about?" Finally Dean smiles, it's soft and sad, but there's hope in his eyes that Castiel will tell him off for the teasing.

Dean needs something, _anything_ that'll pull him out of his own head, preferably by his feet so he can get a mouth full of gravel from ever letting his thoughts get the better of him.

"No, I was digging a grave, you Winchesters make it look so easy... It's not..."

Castiel glances down at his dirt covered shoes, allowing Dean to follow his eyes, showing the Winchester proof of where he's been.

"...To burry Jimmy Novak's body." Castiel finishes.

Dean gasps so hard his lungs tighten, like some unseeable force was constricting his breathing, his tongue slides to the far back of his throat until he chokes on it.

If the universe could pinpoint when Dean Winchester's heart shattered, it was right there.

So the hunter stood on his heels, speechless, he didn't know what to say or where to start.

He's hoping Castiel will get impatient and break the silence, because he's incapable of having a functional brain right now.

Still Dean's thoughts whisper throughout the room to the angel who can hear every one.

_Say something, hell! Say anything! Say. Something! What is wrong with him? What the hell is wrong with him? We don't get to do that, he don't get to check out just cuz we saved the world, what are we just supposed to go on our merry ways then? That's what he was gonna do, just leave?!_

Castiel's eyes droop to the floor then to Dean's clenched fists at his sides. Castiel knows this feeling too well...

"You're angry."

Dean doesn't confirm of deny it but he's scared, scared and furious, his brain has to work overtime to muster up a thought.

"No, no you don't get to do that. You don't get to leave, you don't get to just beam yourself back up into heaven!"

Castiel's face saddens, like a man who has sinned and now must atone, there's guilt in his eyes, a sorrowful stare. "I owe him this, Dean. He gave up everything, he gave his _life_ to me, the least I can do is put his broken body to rest..."

Dean clutches his head, inclosing his arms around his face, he tugs at his short hair.

"He has a plot next to his wife. I made him a headstone..."

"Cas..." Dean starts up again, this time with a whisper.

"They asked if I wanted it to say a specific message, so I had it say how thankful I am to him, how he played such an important part in our lives and his death was not in vain."

"Newsflash, Cas, this isn't about your love letter to Jimmy freaking Novak! I don't care about that! He's _dead_! He's been dead! That body's been blown up, stabbed, and burned to ash!" Dean yells, eyes beading down furiously at the angel. 

"Dean, I don't... I don't expect you to understand." Castiel replies to him, haltingly, "This is not easy."

"Oh, trust me, I get it, in fact nothing you're ever said made much sense, but looks like you're making some today." Dean glares.

"Dean—"

Dean proceeds to cut Castiel off. "I'm no expert on Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, but your host is dead, no more neighborly visits and potlucks.

The house is empty, you know what that means? It means when you leave _nobody_ can invite you _in_ anymore." the Winchester huffs.

"I know what it _entails_, Dean." Castiel says.

"Then you're nothing but a coward." Dean spat.

Castiel is no longer looking at Dean, he can't, the guilt is weighing heavily on his heart. The angel goes silent, forgetting he has a voice as he wallows in his shame.

"You were gonna lea—you were _leaving_, and you weren't even gonna tell us, not even _me_."

Dean shakes his head and purses his lips up into an unpleasant pout, not sure if he's about to crack or not, he lost touch with all his other emotions.

"If you can understand what I was about to do and the consequence, you can also understand why—I couldn't."

His folding frown became Dean's answer, Castiel didn't have to say it out loud. it read: _I knew you'd hate me for it, I knew you'd talk me out of it. That is why I couldn't tell you._

But that's all Dean read, leaving Castiel all alone with his remaining thoughts of: _It would break me inside. I'd cave to you instantly. I wouldn't stand a chance._

Dean vibrates with tension, now breathing again. "I _believed_ in you." He grits. "You made this disbelieving son of a bitch _pray_ to you, _pray_ to _heaven_."

Castiel shuffles his feet, giving himself something to do as he takes in everything Dean says, as he always does. It's his favorite station, even when it's loud with no volume controls.

"I used to tell myself there was no such thing, that it was something imaginary. I would push it so far down, hell, I almost went cross-eyed." Dean pushes against his teeth with his tongue, forcing out his words.

"You're talking about angels and God," Castiel adds.

"No," Dean's voice softens. "No Cas, I'm talking about what I feel... What I've_ been _feeling for a long time."

Castiel listens more closely.

"It's been ten long and hard years, between the whole thing with the archangels and the apocalypse and the other apocalypse—" Dean counts on his fingers and continues. "—And the other Other apocalypse... There was just no time... But I'm ready, no more fighting this crap."

Every word exhausts Dean a little more, but all he can do is huff and puff and blow his metaphorical walls down. Bury himself alive underneath a ton of bricks.

If Chuck's gone, Dean'll just have to write his own ending. And so he does, every word spoken is his, not prewritten or scripted, there's no director that has to yell 'action!'.

Dean lets his feet carry him, until he's inches away from Castiel, close enough to reach out and touch him, and that's what Dean allows himself to do.

Castiel's cheeks slide between Dean's palms as he cups the angel's face and pulls him into his collarbone, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"So stay..." Dean whispers, falteringly. "That suit's been remade more than once, stitched together when there's a rip just like your trench coat.... It's _yours_, Cas."

Castiel dips his forehead into Dean's shoulder, hesitant to touch him.

"You can do whatever you want, you can _be_ whoever you want, you're freakin God now. I know we messed up, I messed up... So if I still want you in the end, after all that, then call me selfish."

Castiel pulls away, pushing against Dean's chest to take back possession of what he accidentally refers to in his head as _his_ body. The Winchester had already gotten through to him before Castiel realized.

Dean takes hold of the angel's wrist as he tries to fade into the night, Dean won't let him this time.

"Please, Cas. Don't do this."

"Dean," The angel groans, wincing as he tries to jerk his wrist out Dean's hold. "Let go."

"I should have listened. I know that now. All the times I turned you down, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so damn stupid to not see what was right in front of me." Dean tears up.

"I said let go." Castiel commands.

"Dean, this isn't a part of you, this isn't your choice."

"That's where you're wrong!" Dean shouts, "In this twisted fated world, fricken ChuckTopia, all I _have_ _is_ my _choice_." his voice cracks under the pressure.

Castiel pushes against Dean's fist, frustratingly careening on his feet. "I owe him_ everything_! Do you understand?!"

"I can do this _all_ day. My arms not even tired."

"Dean!" Castiel gives a warning cry to the hunter. "Dean, I'm begging you!"

"No, I'm not letting you go. You're gonna have to smite me, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Dean takes Castiel's other hand and puts it on his forehead, he's more than sure of himself he's going to win this fight, he might be human but he's not just human, he's a human weakness.

"Go ahead!" Dean barks out. "Do it!"

Castiel doesn't hurt Dean, instead he lets his palm slide down to the Winchester's temple and lightly presses his finger into the skin.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean's eyes roll shut and his hold is broken as he falls to his knees with all his weight, so heavy he vibrates the concrete floor which should have been unshakable, made to withstand all disasters. 

Dean's forehead rests against Castiel hip, Castiel's almost sure the Winchester's sleeping until he tries to walk away and feels fingers digging into his coat, tugging with an unimaginably _strong_ hold.

"Castiel..." Dean licks his lips, reminding himself there's still a way he can talk as the fatigue travels through his body.

Castiel desperately tries to wave him off, his final attempt and he's failing.

"Stay with me..." Dean gives a final plea and with his already shattered heart. "Please...Don't leave..."

"Shhh." Castiel shushes the sleepy hunter, casting his palm against Dean's cheek.

Dean's vision blinks out and his hold on the coat became loose until his arm is wobbling at his side and his whole body goes limp, Castiel backs up slowly to let the Winchester gently fall.

...

A few hours had passed as Dean laid sprawled out on the floor, cheek pressed into concrete.

His blond eyelashes flutter, unsure he wants to look or how much time had passed and the sinking feeling that he was too late...

Still, he slowly opens them, twitching away from the light, like some annoying blinds that got stuck, because he's sensitive to its rays.

All he sees is a blurry wall because his head is turned, and as he sits up to wipe his drool he notices the angel still standing there.

"C-Cas... Y-You're still here..." Dean gives a sharp exhale and relaxes, finally he can soften up a little.

"You're right, that was foolish of me to leave without a few farewells. So while you slept I went around, I said my goodbyes." Castiel says.

A small whine escapes Dean's throat, something's burning and it hurts his chest to breathe again.

"And then...I thought to myself 'How does anyone say goodbye to Dean Winchester? This righteous man who's taught me everything about everything, who's showed me how to fight, how to forgive and love. Also he gives the best bodyshakes'."

Dean cracks a smile, letting air into his lungs once again, he's amused, that smile feels so damn good. "D-Did you just refer to a _hug_ as a _bodyshake_?... Where would that— We're not vibrators, man."

"It's the same as a handshake, only with your limbs." Castiel explains.

"Well, you just ruined hugs for me—forever." Dean huffs, amusingly.

Castiel sways on his feet, side to side, not knowing what to do with his own arms and legs, bodies are weird.

"You gonna help me up or... Am I s'posed to stare up at your double chin all day?" Dean grumbles, still joking.

Castiel reaches out, offering his hand and Dean kneels down on his leg and pushes on the ball of his foot to lift himself up.

"Gotta say it's not your best angle." Dean snarkily adds.

Dean wipes his hands on his legs and brushes the dust off, folding his arms over his chest.

"I decided to stay, I feel it's the right thing to do." Castiel says, but his thoughts shatter when he's pulled into another hug from the slightly taller Winchester.

"Feelings are hard, they're freakin exhausting...I think we should try out a day spa, just- you know, for our recovery stage...Donna has this really good place she goes to—"

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's waist, fingers tracing up his spine and soon he's holding tight

"Oh, _now_ you hug back." Dean remarks sarcastically.

"I owe you an apology." Castiel murmurs into Dean's skin.

"And I owe you _ten_." Dean almost laughs, somehow that's funny/not funny at the same time.

But Castiel's expression clearly reads:_ not funny_.

...

Then the room goes silent and the two stand there, barely moving, holding each other, hearts having a competition of who could jump the furthest out of their chest.

Castiel's sure it's Dean's and when he reaches up to feel the center of their pressing chests, he confirms it for himself.

What feels like a lifetime spanning between them, Dean _finally_ lets go.

Castiel stares, unblinking and unmoving with the hunter. Dean does the same, with the exception of a few blinks because that's something humans have to do.

Then Dean merely asks, "How do you feel about this? About... About..._" Me, just say it Dean, 'Me' you know you want to ask it, here you are sorta pouring your heart out and you still don't know how he feels, what if he thinks you're crazy? Well, you are crazy, so there's THAT._

"I think human emotions are very compelling, hard to control, impossible to ignore."

Castiel swallows once, and Dean tracks every inch of the movement, watching as his adam's apple bobbed up and down, yeah, Castiel had one of those, but it wasn't as prominent.

Castiel has another sentence in him before he caves, at least one more for good measure; he's not done yet.

And as Castiel parts his lips, Dean licks his own, anticipation and nervousness churned like the sea in his stomach, his fists curling and uncurling.

"My feelings for you are unchanging, they were the same yesterday as they are today and before that. Ions before." Castiel says.

He's already able to read the Winchester's thoughts so he could reply without Dean finishing.

And now Castiel stands with a fleeting heart before Dean, the thought of his feelings being returned after all this time caresses his ribs in a way that he can breathe slower, more calmly, he's not worried.

And neither is Dean, they stand a few feet apart, recollecting their remaining thoughts of each other and holding them closer than ever before.

...

It's the end chapter, there might be another volume or two in the future but this is the part of the story where it cuts off and leaves the audience wanting more.

It leaves everyone doubling over in their seats, wishing they could reach into the screen so they can push the characters just a _little_ closer together.

But unfortunately some bible distance is in order until these morons can better channel their feelings, until then they're just awkward, and bless their little hearts for it. They're doing their best.

...

Now all that remains is assurance that this isn't some dream they are about to wake from. So Dean digs his nails into his palm to create a little pain and Castiel tightly squeezes his fist until it hurts.

This time it counts, it counts for everything the pair have been through, that it folds together so effortlessly.

Castiel wings it, like angels do, replies are not as thought through, yet they are _always_ genuine and there's that groping sincerity in his tone as he says the words he knows to be true. 

and Dean lets his mouth fall open in reply, words pour out just as easily, a narrow stream connecting to his heart, it's a river, so he's sure that's where they're coming from, there's no other place that connects.

The words are said so simple and lovely. Castiel starts and Dean ends with a smile.

And they stare with a gaze that mends their broken hearts, their bodies suddenly felt reborn in a new light.

A gaze that read: _The world might end for some, but not for us. We have an eternity from then._

Just like their first meeting. It's a soul gaze so piercing they feel it in their core, because Castiel and Dean have always been connected, and what little breaks that's ruled by fate was made to fall back together again.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I abused my ability to make gifs, and when I say 'abused' I mean ab/used to my advantage.
> 
> This is my first time submitting on ao3, my friend suggested I post to more than just Wattpad so that’s what I’m doing I guess.  
I hope everyone likes it. :)


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